Jane Harvey-Berrick Saving The Billionaire

by Harvey-Berrick, Jane

  Abruptly, I realize that his parents have finally taken the hint and are leaving. I jog out to the main room to escort them to the foyer.

  “Ma’am, sir.”

  “Thank you, Trainer.”

  We walk to the elevator in silence. I’m not the chatty type. Mrs. A, on the other hand is stunned into conversation.

  “Well, goodness, that was a surprise, Trainer. How long have Devon and Maria been seeing each other?”

  I remain silent.

  “That’s none of our business, Glor,” Mr. A. says gently, still smiling at the shock of finding out his fine young son is straight.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask you things like that. It’s just the surprise.”

  I bet.

  “Well, good day, Trainer.”

  “Ma’am. Sir.”

  I feel the girl’s eyes on me. I turn to look at her, “Ms. Alvarez.”

  “Hey, thanks for taking Dolores home. That was really nice of you.”

  Nice? Is this how low I’ve sunk?

  She gives me a sweet, friendly smile as I turn to leave. I hope the boss takes care of her.

  Crap, that sounds a bit too Godfather-ish. And I am talking about the King of Pain.

  Anderson is already in business mode when I go back to my office, leaving Ms. Alvarez hovering uncertainly in the main room. She seems overwhelmed by her surroundings and a little unnerved by the boss. And I really hope he isn’t planning on introducing her to the dubious delights of his meditation room, but I guess that’s too much to ask for.

  Rachel

  I SAW JUSTIN briefly on Sunday evening, but now he’s with Mr. Anderson in Detroit all week. It’s also my birthday today. Forty-two. Justin wanted us to go out for dinner, but that’s not happening now. He hid a card under my pillow and French chocolates in my underwear drawer. He can be so thoughtful, but asking him to speak his feelings out loud is hard for him. Instead, he shows me by his actions every day that he cares.

  I have something for him, too. I’m going to give him my gift in person.

  The house is so quiet and empty without him and without Mr. Anderson. It makes it easy for me to do my work, but I miss them both.

  I know Justin pretends not to be fond of Mr. Anderson, but he is, of course. And really, Mr. Anderson is a sweet man, easy to like and a good employer. He’s a loving son, an attentive brother, and a hard worker. I don’t understand why he needs to have a meditation room and why he needs to … do whatever it is that he does. Well, it’s obvious because I’ve been cleaning the meditation room for over a year now. All those whips and canes and other accessories. I just don’t understand the why.

  I know Mr. Anderson has a temper, Justin has mentioned it often enough, but he has never, not once, lost his temper with me. He’s always grateful for the work I do and eats everything I put in front of him. If all employers were like that, it would be very easy to do my job.

  My sister, Allison, is very curious about him. But I’ve signed my NDA and she understands I can’t talk about my work. She’s a lot more vocal about Justin, unfortunately. She hasn’t used the word again, but I know she thinks that I’m convenient for him. Thanksgiving was very uncomfortable, so I’m not surprised he didn’t want to spend Christmas with my family. Justin is astute enough to see what Allison thinks of him, so he clammed up around her: not that he’s the most talkative person on a good day. But I wish she could see him the way I do, warm and funny and loving. Allison thinks Justin is dangerous. I don’t like to dwell on that.

  Our kitchen looks like a bomb hit it after I’ve been away for the weekend. Justin really isn’t the tidiest person. Especially for someone who’s ex-military. It’s a full-time job looking after him. Thank goodness Mr. Anderson is methodical and tidy. It’s a joy working for someone who’s organized; it really makes my life much easier.

  I can’t help smiling when I see that Justin has worked his way through half the contents of the entire refrigerator. It’s a good thing he exercises so much because I wouldn’t want to be responsible for his waistline.

  It really is a wonderful thing for a woman in her forties to make love with a man like Justin. He has a fabulous body at a time when most of my friends are bemoaning their husband’s beer bellies, double chins and, well, lack of appetite, should I say. There isn’t a spare inch of fat on Justin, that’s for sure. And he’s a wonderful, thoughtful lover. And talk about stamina! I certainly don’t have any complaints in that department. I really am very lucky.

  He’s asked me to marry him again. I won’t, of course. I don’t think he’s really serious. After all, he’s nine years younger than me and one day he might meet a woman that he wants to have a family with, brothers and sisters for Lilly. I won’t be the one to stop him from moving on when that happens.

  But there’s another reason that I haven’t told him about: it’s the job he does. I’ve lost one husband and I couldn’t bear to lose a second. I know there are many other dangerous jobs out there, but I hate, hate that Justin wears a gun every day and works in close protection. I couldn’t marry a man who wears a gun to work, I just couldn’t. The idea makes me feel sick.

  But at the same time, I want to move on with my life—but am I making the right choice? Am I risking my heart again?

  Chapter 3

  Dazed and Confused

  TODAY WE’RE AT the Crowne Plaza in Detroit. Must be Monday.

  The boss had two more dates with Ms. Alvarez last week, and on a week night, too. Which means Rachel was introduced to her. During that brief meeting, I saw the moment when two women decide, for whatever reason, that they’re on the same side. I don’t know if they have a secret handshake or a code word, but they were definitely all smiles with each other. Makes me nervous. Rachel said she liked her.

  See? I’m sure that’s a code word.

  Or maybe I just need to get a life.

  The boss is working on his laptop, fixing some last minute orders on a multi-million dollar deal, barking orders into his iPhone every few minutes, and I’m left twiddling my thumbs and wondering whether to shoot myself just to alleviate the boredom.

  I try to have a conversation with Siri, but she doesn’t laugh at my jokes. All I get is, “I’m sorry, could you say that again?” Jokes aren’t funny if you have to tell them twice.

  I know. It’s sad.

  In war, there are always some soldiers who snap: some shoot themselves in the foot or in the hand just to get sent back from the frontline. But I suspect if I shot off a toe or two, Anderson would just tell me to hop more quickly and watch where I was bleeding.

  All because of a certain Ms. Alvarez.

  I spend most of my time in the gym and read the daily security reports from Mason. Nothing new. Nothing interesting. Fuck! I mustn’t think like that. In this job, dull is good.

  The only bright point in the day is phoning Rachel.

  “Hey, baby, miss me?”

  “Of course, Justin. I always do. How has your day been?”

  “Dull. You?”

  “Oh, well, okay,” her voice sounds distracted.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine, you sound weird.”

  “Well, thank you, Justin! That’s good to know.”

  “Come on, baby, I don’t mean it like that. But something’s wrong—why won’t you tell me what it is?”

  She doesn’t reply directly.

  “Has Mr. Anderson spoken to Ms. Alvarez?”

  “Probably, I wouldn’t know. Why?”

  “Oh, I just wondered.”

  “Wondered what?”

  She hesitates.

  “It’s just that this girl seems … different. Not like the others from the Farm, from what you’ve told me. She’s much younger, isn’t she?”

  “She’s 24. What’s this about, Rachel?”

  “Nothing. I’m being silly. Tell me what you did today.”

  I recognize that tone. Whatever she isn’t telling
me will have to wait. But then the phone buzzes irritatingly.

  “Can you wait, babe? I’ve got another call coming in on my cell.”

  I put her on hold and answer. It’s the boss.

  “Trainer, I won’t need you again this evening. I won’t be going out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The line goes dead and I return to Rachel.

  “Is everything okay, Justin?”

  “Yeah, that was the boss. He’s turning in for the night. Which probably means he’ll be pulling an all-nighter. I guess it’s this big deal going down.”

  “Oh, poor Mr. Anderson! But it’s odd, isn’t it? For him to get so wound up? Usually he’s so calm about his business.”

  “Rachel, honey, ‘odd’ has been one of my favorite words since I met him.”

  She laughs lightly.

  “Very true. Call me tomorrow?”

  “You know I will. Miss you, baby.”

  “Miss you, too.”

  “Enough to marry me?”

  “Goodnight, Justin!”

  Oh well, it was worth a try.

  And now I feel even more fucking irritated. Anderson is working, doing the things that make him tick, and I’m stuck in a hotel miles away from the woman of my dreams. Some guys have all the luck. Looks like I’ll need to spend some time in the hotel’s gym again or I’ll be going to bed with a serious hard-on. Talking to Rachel always has that effect on me.

  So I’ve been lifting weights and now I’m running on the damn machine next to a trio of fat, sweaty executives, and keeping an eye on the boss at the same time via the GPS tracker on his phone. Not that I don’t trust him, but I don’t trust him. He’s been acting weirder than usual since he hooked up with little Ms. Alvarez. Even I winced when I saw her the morning after they’d hooked up, walking like she’d just gotten off a rodeo bull. The memory makes me cringe.

  Tuesday is equally dull and equally long. It seems the boss has no meetings, so we head out for a long run instead. In Manhattan, I think we’ve exhausted every possible route in every possible part of the island. At least this is new. And at least the weather is cool. I had one job in Florida where the guy I was guarding ran every day in 98% humidity. Fine for him, but I had my piece strapped to my side and had to cover up with a lightweight running jacket. I nearly fucking melted. It was like a summer in Afghan wearing full body armor.

  By Wednesday, I’m so bored that I’m thinking about shooting Anderson. But then he quietly informs me that we’re heading back to NYC and he’s having dinner with Ms. Alvarez at Le Bernadin. Oh, and I can wait for him to drive him home after. Yeah, you fuck. I’ll wander the streets of Midtown like some friendless, sad dickwad.

  From the airport, I take the boss straight to the upscale French seafood restaurant. I could tell the boss that it’s not the kind of place where Ms. Alvarez will feel comfortable, but it’s none of my business.

  Just before 8PM, I’m sitting quietly in the car, waiting for the boss’s date to arrive. And I have to say she’s a knock-out, wearing a figure-hugging dress and heels, and looking a lot less like a woman who works at Value Carpets. Her hair is styled in loose curls that reach almost to her waist. There’s not a man on the street walking by that hasn’t looked appreciatively at Ms. Alvarez, but for once the boss doesn’t seem to notice. He’s looking at Ms. Alvarez like she’s the last oasis in the desert.

  I sit and read the paper, sip my soda and eat a sandwich, then call Rachel.

  “Hi, baby.”

  “Justin!”

  I hear her yawn.

  “Sorry, babe. Were you sleeping?”

  “Not really, just dozing. I didn’t want to miss your call. Are you on your way home?”

  “Not yet. Don’t wait up.”

  Just the sound of her voice soothes me. Already the muscles in my body are relaxing and I ease my aching body in the seat, leaning back against the leather headrest.

  There’s a soft puff of laughter over the phone.

  “I’ve got this enormous bed and you’re not here.”

  “You could try that old fashioned thing called sleeping, babe.”

  “Where’s the fun in that? Anyway, I sleep better with you.” Her voice softens with concern. “You must be exhausted, Justin.”

  “I’m okay. How was your day?”

  “Fine. The new drapes for the guestrooms arrived. The rooms look more homey now—less like a hotel. Oh, and a large parcel arrived for you—it’s the bicycle you ordered for Lilly’s birthday.”

  “Great! Does it look okay?”

  “It’s very pink.” She laughs lightly. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

  “Wanna come with me when I give it to her?”

  There’s a long pause.

  “I’d love to see Lilly again, but I think giving her the bike should be a special daddy and daughter day. But another time, yes, definitely.”

  “You’re pretty damn wonderful, you know that?”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  She laughs softly and I hear her trying to stifle a yawn. It’s time to let her go.

  “You sound tired, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I love you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Night, Justin.”

  “Night.”

  The phone clicks and she’s gone.

  I’m just thinking about taking a nap in the time accelerator (and if you’ve ever been in the military you’ll know that’s what we call our bedroll when we’re on a particularly boring tour), when the boss and Ms. Alvarez exit, heading to a taxi.

  I guess his plans for the evening didn’t pan out after all. Bet that doesn’t happen too often. Yeah, my heart is fucking breaking.

  I guess he doesn’t like her taking taxis late at night. Or maybe because she just turned him down for sex.

  Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!

  THURSDAY MORNING, I’M booted and suited, standing to attention outside the boss’s office at DMA Tower because today is the day that the boss breaks in two new interns: Cooper Sinclair III, all-American, Ivy League, privileged, smart as fuck … and Ms. Maria Conchita Alvarez, UVM and Value Carpets, the Bronx. Also smart as fuck.

  I’m shocked.

  The boss is in danger of mixing business and pleasure.

  Pam strides into his office, looking pissed and doesn’t even bother to slam the door.

  “Devon, is this supposed to be a joke?”

  She waves two personnel files at him.

  “What seems to be amusing you, Pam?”

  She snorts and tosses the files onto the table.

  “Two interns: one male, white, Ivy league; one female, ethnic, UVM.”

  “Your point?”

  “You’ve given me the woman to mentor, presumably since I’m female, Black and graduated from community college; but you’re taking the married and straight white guy who went to a top school, same as you—have you any idea what sort of message this sends to the troops?”

  The boss stares back coolly.

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Oh take the stick out of your ass, Dev! You know how this looks!”

  “How it looks is irrelevant. I’m simply following the HR department’s guidelines.”

  “And how is that?” she snarls, baring her teeth.

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to mentor Ms. Alvarez because I’m in a relationship with her.”

  Clang!

  That’s the sound of Pam’s jaw hitting the floor.

  “You. In a relationship. With a woman.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I … congratulations, Devon. I hope you’ll be very happy. I apologize for my assumption.” Her stiff voice eases. “Yeah, I should have known you wouldn’t pull that shit. Fine. I’ll mentor Ms. Alvarez, but she won’t get any special favors, not from me. I’ll treat her the same way I would anyone.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything else,” the boss says wryly.

  Pam turns to leave, then frowns.
>
  “So, you’re not gay?”

  There’s a long pause and the boss takes his time answering.

  “It would appear not.”

  Chapter 4

  Nine-and-a-half Minutes

  I USED TO love Saturdays. When I was a kid, it meant no school and going fishing with my buddies or tearing up the backwoods with our BMXs. When I was in high school, it meant sleeping in after a football game the night before, then going to my part-time job stacking shelves at Walmart. When I joined the Marines, Saturday meant free time after PT.

  Now, I fucking hate weekends. Rachel still goes to Allison’s three out of four Fridays. She enjoys spending time with the girls, baking, shopping and doing girly shit. I know she loves all that, so even though I miss the hell out of her, I never want to make her feel bad about going.

  So shitty-ass end of the working week for me means lurking in the boss’s Tribeca mansion and accompanying him on his morning run.

  At least he hasn’t reinstated the weekend orgies, not yet.

  But this Friday night, the boss informs me that I’ll be driving him and Ms. Alvarez out to the Farm in the morning.

  So far, the boss hasn’t brought in a new manager, and the couple who did the catering have temporarily taken on some of the management and housekeeping duties.

  The drive out is so ordinary, it should be in an episode of The Brady Bunch. I don’t know what the boss has told Ms. Alvarez about what she’s going to see when they get there—not much, is my guess.

  If she’s smart, which she is, she’ll run screaming. But as Dolores said, she’s only book smart, which means she and the boss are pretty much on the same page when it comes to relationships, if that’s what this is.

  I glance in the rear view mirror. She looks happy, chatting about the journey, the scenery, how “awesome” Pam Russo is and how much she’s enjoying interning at DMA Solutions.

  The boss is quieter, but I swear he’s smiled several times, and even let Ms. Alvarez hold his hand, or lean her head on his shoulder.